One Game My Horror
by marmarpenn
Summary: For her whole life Alina Northwood has prepared herself for the games. At age twelve and eligible for the 73rd hunger games, she knows for a fact that she's going to be picked. Can she survive the unsurviable, be the first twelve year old to make it out of the arena alive? OC. R&R


**Hey just felt like doing a fic in the spirit of the hunger games! :D!**

**Explanation though. So this fic takes place a year before the 74th hunger games (if you don't know what happens before the 74th hunger games get out of this fandom). It's about a girl...and well you'll see.**

Most people can't say they've lived the hunger games for there whole lives. I have. Twelve years of peer and utter people in Panem can say they've grown up with the games being that thing they dread every year. I've always brought that to a new level.

My parents had me young, my father seventeen and my mother only sixteen. My father, went into the games a month after I was born just before his eighteenth birthday. He always told me was the main reason he managed to survive, was because he needed to come back to my mother and me. OF course the next year when my mother was picked she wasn't so lucky...one of the last to die, but still not lucky.

The Capitol liked my dad, thought he was so brave to take on a child alone. They loved me too. So every year when he came back to mentor the games I was along with him. Since a young age my life, my personality has been scripted. M

Now on the year of my twelve birthday, after all the years of preparation. I expect it's my year to represent my district.

Yeah, your probably thinking it's impossible. First my father, than my mother...and finally me. But over the years I've figured out the games are rigged. I'm in district five, I'm most defiantly not an idiot.

If your smart, like I am, you've probably figured out the games are rigged.

I mean how could the Capitol resist. I've literally gone there once a year for interviews with my dad. I've became there little sweetheart. They've watched me grow up. Now they want me to be the victorious one. Which is doubtful because last time I checked the youngest person to ever win the games is Finnick Odair, and trust me when I tell you this. I'm no Finnick Odair.

"Your thinking again aren't you?"

"I am not," I was about to defend myself more, but I than remembered I was a horrible liar...especially when lying to Bren. He could see straight through me. My brother. Not by blood. The girl who my father was with in his games had a son. She had him young like my parents. But she died and my father promised to take care of him. I mean who wants to make friends with the girl who's father is a victor, and who's mom died in the games. The girl who goes to the capital once a year to talk in countless interviews and be that sharp, clever girl the capitol loves. I may be a horrible liar, but I sure am a good actor.

Bren grew up with me, he knows the real me. I'm glad we aren't related by blood though, because than he'd be in danger of the games.

"Don't worry," he said sitting next to me at the breakfast table he put an arm around me. He was already an inch taller, even though he was only two months older than me.

"Me and dad are correct, Snow handpick who's in the game's. Why do you think there so 'interesting' each year."

"Well...people ought to know somethings up with you...dad and mom all getting picked."

"The districts will know," I commented tossing my egg's back and forth against my plate, "but what are the districts suppose to do, uprise and get blown to bits like thirteen. Either the capital people are too stupid to figure it out...or well they don't care... Maybe eve a little of both."

"Well you'll survive," said Bren now talking fast and he was nervously tapping his feet against the hardwood floor, "Alina you have too...dad trained you. Your good with knives."

"Other people have been trained since birth you know," I said, "I'm not that good with knives you know."

"Please, you've been holding those damn weapons your whole life. Your clever...super smart. What's your IQ again 16-"

"175," I muttered.

"I know that," he grinned, "I just wanted to go all know it all on me."

I rolled my eyes my father walked into the room, "Training five minutes."

"Today," Bren said, "But today-"

"Is reaping day, never stopped us before?" my father said gruffly. He was upset, I could tell. I mean who isn't upset on reaping day. Especially with the guarantee your daughter is going to get picked.

"Well...It's Alina's last day and-"

"The biggest reason why we should train today," my father said, "She'll only have so much time...once she's..." my father didn't finish his sentence instead he spun on his heels and left the room.

"Love you too dad," I said softly.

"Don't be like that Alina," Bren said, "You...know he's just worried."

I wish I thought he was just only worried. But sometimes I swear after all these years I think... he's as bad a capital. He want's me to win so bad... If I lose...well now that looks bad on him. I know he doesn't think like that really. But the way he acts on television the dashing young man, who has a clever and witty daughter. It...feels like that's what he expects of me.

"You better go, and oh are you going to eat these eggs..."

"Go ahead," I said rolling my eyes at his annoying appetite.

I hurried to the backroom of our house in the victor's village. We were aloud to make a training room. Technically it was against the rules for districts to train there kids. They let it slide in 1, 2, and 3. Apparently it was built to keep my dad sharp on his skills. District 5 is a district of smartness, and cleverness. We build the nuclear But it was really built so that my dad would train me. The Capitol likes that They think it'd be entertaining for me to dominate the games.

I walked into the training room only to find it dark, "Dad? You here yet?"

Nothing, I turned around and yelled into the house? Dad? The door swung shut and I heard someone approaching me in the dark. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as something dove towards me. I bearly dodged out of the way.

Another test, no surprise. He gave me one every day he always found new and insane ways to challenge me. Lately they've been getting worse. Training in the dark though...

"Well this is a new one," I muttered in annoyance, "Training in the dark."

"Lesson 1," my fathers gravelly voice said, "any form of noise gives you away."

Something swept my feet out from under me and I fell painfully on my but. I rolled out the way just as I heard another whoosh of a foot. Ok...dad was actually sort of giving me a clue...I mean you can't be extremely silent, and my dad's made me able to concentrate just on a few skills. I couldn't concentrate on my sight. Or even my touch. I just had to concentrate on my hearing and make as little noise as possible. Which would be a good idea if I wasn't against my father, who is much better and concentrating on one sense.

I heard the woosh of my father's fist I was too late to duck I, I blocked it instead. Which was painful but at least it didn't hit my face. I kicked forward only to find out my father was no longer there. I spun around and ducked just as I heard the whoosh of his fist again.

He chuckled, "Good...good..."

That helped me a lot I spun to my left and kicked him square int he chest hearing him land on the ground I managed to find his windpipe with my foot and apply pressure. My dad clapped his hands turning the lights on, "Take your own advice Dad," I teased taking my foot off, "You did that on purpose...didn't' you."

I was a little annoyed. My dad, shouldn't do that. People weren't just going to let me win in the games. They'd be stupid too. The rules were simple kill or be killed, and I knew I had to be kill. Dying wasn't going to be an option.

My father stood up, "Guess you'll never know," he swung a punch with I ducked under and took the momentum of his flying body to flip him over my head he fell on the floor with a wild laugh, "You did that one all by yourself."

I found myself grinning.

My father's laughs subsided down as he stared at me and his smile soon added back into a sad, sad frown, "You should get ready...I have a dress for you. I left it on your bed."

I smiled a sad smile and nodded in thanks leaving the room and going up the spiral steps to my room. The dress on my bed made me gasp, and trust me I'm not one to gasp over simple fashion. All the years I've been constantly going to the capital I've been put into a ton of fancy and frilly dances. I hated them all. But this one is different. Because I've seen this one in the video they show as a recap every year during the hunger games. I've seen this dress on my mother. This was her reaping dress, and now it was going to be mine. It was pure white lace that went just past my nee's one inch straps that crossed in the back and as they connected had a white silk bow on it.

I got into it fast. My mom was small at seventeen, even after having me. And I was tall at twelve, getting my hight from my mom. I was also a lot more bulky and strong with muscle that I've grown over years of training and constantly exercising. Even then it was a little big on me but it didn't matter, it still made me feel like I had a connection to her. I brushed out my auburn hair a common trait among people from district 5. But mine was a lot more darker than everyone else. It was a brownish red making me stick out. There wasn't much I could really do with it so I left it be when I heard a knock on my door.

"Come in," I said turning around. Bren walked in. He was in a forest green dress shirt and slacks. The same thing he's worn every year. Even though my dad has raised him like his own son the Capitol doesn't see him as that important. Except for the fact it was yet another kind thing my father did. The camera's are never on him. He never get's interviewed and he isn't expected to travel to the capitol every where.

"You look beautiful," Bren said.

"I feel miserable," I commented twirling my finger around a lock of my red hair, a bad habit I have. I sunk down on my bed.

"Considering your situation," he sighed sitting next to me and swinging an arm over my shoulders, "I don't blame you."

"I'm dead already," I said, "How many twelve year olds get picked and make it. Well none. The youngest kid to ever survive the games is fourteen. The average age for someone to get picked for the games is seventeen. The most common age for someone to win is sixteen. I belive that is because they are still small and agile yet they still have-"

"Alina," snapped Bren, "Your overthinking things."

I sighed, I was... I do that a lot.

The gong rung for us to get into the square and my dad appeared in the door way. Me and Bren look at each other before standing up and hooking arms. Our father stood behind us with a singe hand on each of our shoulders and guided us all the way to the square. Before he had to head to the stage and me and Bren had to find our way to the twelve year old section.

"Welcome," drawled a low deep voice. Bronie Stranford. A gold skinned, gold haired Weed addict who's been high since my father was reaped twelve years ago, "To the 73rd annual hunger games. Now a brief presentation from the Mayor of District nine Gareth Lighe."

Gareth was a plump man, who honestly didn't give a crap about anything. Not kids lives. He was unmarried. Probably the least smart person in district five (I know hilarious) and somehow elected mayor because he knew how to kiss up to people in high places. He explained the [past, how PAnem rose from the ashes. How district thirteen rebelled. How panem rose from the ashes again. Then created the hunger games to remind us that they were in control.

Soon Bronie Staford rose to the microphone again, "I will first pick from the ladies bowl," he drawled. I rolled my eyes and tapped my foot impatiently.

He put his hand in the bowl, thousands of slips, and I knew for a face that they all said my name. Everyone in my district new it. The rest of the girls had a relaxed look among them, like this was a break for them. Who can blame them either? If I was safe this year, I'd be relaxed too. I wasn't safe. Unsafe couldn't even define my...current situation. More like mostly possible death sentence. He probably did to but he spun his hand around the bowl anyway to make a dramatic emphasis. Bren grabbed my hand and squeezed.

"Alina Northwood," he said.

Big surprise.

Bren's grip on my hand tightened and I managed to wrestle out of his grip and put on a big fake smile, the smile I used when addressing the capital. I made my way to the stage with big confident steps and shook Bronie's hand.

"I'm so honored," I said putting my hands on my chest and grinning, "Now I will follow in my father's footsteps."

I made eye contact with Bren he looked depressed and for a second I almost frowned. I stopped myself though, because if I did that. I'd lose my act the little girl touch everyone in the capital loved. My big lie started now. I'd have to play one game with the capital than survive another game in an arena. Sometimes I don't know what is worse.

"Ok," drawled Bronie not phased by my picking (how exactly does this man keep his job?), "Now for the boys."

He spun his hand around in the bowl, I had a nagging feeling. I hope it isn't Bren. But I knew his choosing was doubtful. Snow doesn't want him.

"Niger Strone," said Bronie.

I didn't know him but suddenly I saw someone rise out of the crowd. He stuck out like a sore thumb. Tall big brooding. He didn't have the red hair and green eyes that seemed to follow everyone in district five. Instead he had dark jet black hair, pale skin and blue eyes. He was scary. Obviously one of the older kids at seventeen or eighteen.

Scratch that, he just had to be eighteen.

He came up on stage shook Bronie's hand before looking at me with weary watery eyes. Wait a minute. He was crying.

It would have been funny. Me a twelve year old girl only a little over five feet standing tough with a smile, while him a tall seven feet foot manboy was crying.

"Well," drawled an impatient Bronie, "Shake hands."

I grabbed his hand in a firm shake, "Wonderful to meet you...Niger."

"Same," he said bewildered.

"Happy hunger games! How about we give a congradulations to out contestants?"

Nothing figures, I wouldn't clap either, well except for the fact I had to every year to keep up appearances. I caught eyes with my father seated at the back of the stage and he made eye contact with me and nodded. I turned back towards the audience, "I'll make you guys proud I promise."

I felt sick at my own words, no not my words. The capitols. Sure I said it, I thought of it. I but I wouldn't be saying any of this if I just didn't want to survive.

No one smiled, I saw Bren sigh.

I then turned around and got escorted by the Peacekeepers out. The moment my bodies left the camera's I released and made my way to the visitor room. Nice furniture similar to the type in my house. The door clicked open Bren walked in engulfing me in a hug, "That was horrible. Worse than I could ever imagine."

"God," I said, "If I have t smile and be all thankful one more time. I may throw up."

Bren breath left his lips in a sad sigh, "Your coming back, I just know it."

He kissed me on the forehead, and sighed, "See you later." I said because goodbye didn't seem right.

"See you later," he said turning around hesitating before he opened the door and left. No one else came and saw me, I wasn't surprised. They probably thought I was sick with the way I acted. If only they knew the real me.

Soon I was escorted again by peacekeepers Niger was next to me and from the looks of it he'd cried again. Idiot, your making yourself look weak.

I smiled and walked in graceful steps. I stepped into the train and once again my shoulders sagged and I left behind my little, sweet girl appearance and clasped into one of the chairs. Niger stood there. My father sat on the couch staring at some of the food...

"So now what?" Niger suddenly asked in a raspy voice.

"We train," I said, "and hope to survive."

Niger laughed a dry unhumored laugh that sent chills up my spine and caused me to wrap my arms around myself in hope of some sort of comfort. It wasn't working "And hope? What's this thing about hope, some of them...including you have been trained since birth to kill. I have no chance so if you excuse me..."

He left to go to another compartment, even though he had no idea where he was going.

But then again did any of us know where we were going, because I sure didn't.


End file.
